


A Losing War

by Lady_Darkness



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Death, Gen, Prompt Fill, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 04:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Darkness/pseuds/Lady_Darkness
Summary: Hawkeye can't save a young soldier's life.





	A Losing War

Hawkeye looked down at the young boy on his operating table. The day had been going on forever, operating on kids who were shot to pieces for over 13 hours straight had made him pretty angry and tired. This kid seemed to be on the brink of death. His skin was sickly pale because of the blood loss caused by the big wound in his thigh. No major arteries seemed to have been hit, which was why the triage team had left him out, waiting for a doctor to take care of him. The boy was barely conscious thanks to the drugs the medics had given him on arrival.

Hawkeye looked over his mask to B.J., who was elbows deep in another poor kid, caught in a war he shouldn’t fight. The younger doctor’s eyes glittered with tears of exhaustion and despair, but he didn't budge, didn't sit down or rest. Every hour they kept going, more lives were saved. They couldn’t let themselves crash now. Later, after the last patient had been treated and the nurses were in charge of the post-op ward, he and BJ could go back to The Swamp and get some rest. Now the young soldiers under their care deserved the best they could give them.

“Nurse, put him under, and get me three units of O negative, now,” Hawkeye said, all businesslike, but feeling torn inside. He snapped on a fresh pair of gloves while he waited for the nurse to come back with the requested bags of blood. He was not in a particular hurry. He’d realized the boy’s chances were poor as soon as he’d seen the large, bleeding gash in his thigh. The kid had lost too much blood to survive.

He almost jumped when he felt a hand grab his leg weakly. Looking down, he noticed the young man’s eyes were open. His lips trembled as he bent down to hear what would probably be a kid’s last words.

“Please tell my mom I love her, and I’m sorry… Give her my diary, she will understand…,” the boy stammered, starting to cough up blood.

The red fluid leaking from his lips made Hawkeye freeze in worry and anger. He gave the body on the table a once over and noticed a small puncture wound in his chest, near his lungs. A wave of anger came over him. Who had signed this kid’s death warrant? He’d been lying there bleeding out on the inside, and no one had noticed? With superhuman strength, he suppressed the feeling of despair crawling up his spine. This boy wouldn’t make it, but he felt he needed to give it his best shot anyway.

“I will write to your mom, kid. Don’t worry about that. Now lie back and relax," Hawkeye reassured the young man on the table.

With a sigh, he signalled the nurse to put him under so he could try and save this kid’s life.

Three hours later, Hawkeye entered The Swamp, holding a small black book in his hand. He’d taken it from the kid’s jacket right after he had declared him dead. He hadn’t lasted longer than ten minutes after he’d been put under, his wounds were too extensive and the blood loss had cost him his life in the end. Another victim of this senseless war. Hawkeye kicked his cot in anger. Young boys kept dying on his watch because politicians saw it fit to send them off to risk their lives.

He didn’t notice B.J. returning to their tent, as he still stood with the small book in his hand. He’d found the kid’s address on the first page. Planning to send it to his mother, Hawkeye sat down at the table to start writing the letter informing the poor woman she lost her son to a war far away from home.

“What are you doing Hawk?”

“Writing that kid’s mom. He asked me to send her his diary,” Hawkeye replied, pointing to the little black book next to him.

B.J. looked at his tentmate, he’d seen Hawkeye’s morale deteriorate over the last couple of weeks. The victims, the long hours, the general brutality of seeing the consequences of the raging war, it all got to him more than to the others. B.J. wondered if he was going to crack one day and get sent home under the Section 8 Klinger was dying to get.

He wandered over to where Hawkeye was sitting and put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. The other man leaned into the touch, grateful for the friendship they shared, that allowed both of them to let off steam and find comfort in each other's proximity.

Then B.J. picked up the small book and looked at it. The book was well worn, torn in a few places, the leather cover was crusted in dirt and smelled like earth. On the inside, not a trace of filth was to be found. The very first page contained nothing but the boy’s name and address, written down in a neat hand. BJ chuckled as he mentally compared the boy’s writing with his own chicken scratches Peggy complained about. When he turned the page and noticed the date, he realized this was a war diary, from one of the kids at the front. His first instinct was to close the book, to not intrude on a person’s private thoughts, but as the boy was no longer alive, it didn’t seem such an intrusion.

Reading the first entry, his breath hitched. He still clearly remembered the day he had arrived in Korea after a short and basic training. The heat and tension in the air on the drive to their camp had made him nauseous, and that nausea hadn’t left him in the time he’d spent here. He couldn’t imagine what life was like when you were condemned to spend it at the front line.

_April 17th, 1952_

_Arrival in Korea. The training was hard, but it didn’t prepare us for this. Robert looks angry and disgusted because he found a dead rat under his cot. At least we have a cot, for now. I think he does not realize what is going to happen in the next few days. We were under attack on the road from the airport to our base camp, I think he’s gone in denial. Mother, if you ever read this, I am proud to be serving my country the only way I can. I regret leaving you and Helen behind, but at least I know you are safe and sound. I will secure your future by fighting against the enemy here and now. Keep fighting the_ commies _at home. I love you and I miss you._

_Ron_

B.J. felt tears pricking behind his eyes as he read the boy’s first entry. A fresh-faced American boy, trying to build a life for himself, picked from his factory or college to go and fight for his country. He understood the sense of pride in the kid, but he assumed it had turned sour really soon. And who was Helen? Was she his sweetheart or his sister? Either way, the girl had surely lost someone close to her now. B.J.’s heart constricted as he imagined Peggy getting the letter saying he had perished in battle or in a bombing.

He swallowed as he quickly browsed the diary. There were new entries every day, some celebrating a small victory or complaining about the food or heat, others mourning the loss of a comrade and then there were the ones that only described the situation he found himself in. He shared jokes the other soldiers played on each other and he wrote down some poems about his life on the front.

The final entry hit BJ like a ton of bricks. It was so mundane, and nothing in it suggested the boy wouldn’t live for another week.

_October 1st, 1952_

_Damn it! The weather has been horrible for a few days, nothing but heat and rain. Robert has passed away in the MASH unit two days ago, God bless his soul. Is there still a God? Are you there? Please make it stop. High Command will send the order to advance soon, but the men’s morale is at an all-time low and the North Koreans keep attacking us wherever we go. We won’t last long like this, we need help. Walter and I did manage to trap a lone rabbit, thank heaven for small mercies. At least we’ll be getting some actual meat for dinner instead of the slop they’re serving us_.

_Ron_

The kid’s, Ron's,  despair, his pain, was clear in the few short lines. He had lost his friend who he had mentioned countless times in the earlier entries, and now he was losing his faith as well. B.J. sincerely hoped he hadn’t lost his faith yet when he was dying on the operating table, so he might have had a modicum of comfort in his time of need.

He put the book back on the table next to Hawkeye, who was finishing up the letter and preparing the package to go out in the mail.

“Poor kid,” was all Hawkeye could say, “I wish he’d get another chance at life.”

“All of those kids we treat deserve another chance at life, a chance not to be traumatized or not to lose limbs,”

“They do,” Hawkeye agreed sadly as he stuffed both the letter and the book into the brown envelope on the table. He hoped the parcel would arrive safely and that the kid’s mom would find some solace in knowing what the last months of her son’s life had been like.

The two doctors looked at each other, both empathizing with what Ron's mother would feel when Hawkeye's letter reached her. B.J. grabbed Hawkeye's hand and held tight as he allowed the tears to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a prompt I found on Facebook. The prompt was: Write a soldier’s diary entry on the first day at war, then write his final diary entry.
> 
> The story got a little out of hand as it seems to be more focused on Hawkeye's and B.J.'s feelings, but I still feel it contains all that was asked.


End file.
